


Cold Brew Heart

by WriteBecauseYouCannotBreathe



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, F/M, Fluff, Good Boy/Bad Girl, I will row this canoe all by my damn self, One Shot, Slight zutara - Freeform, slight zukka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26376487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteBecauseYouCannotBreathe/pseuds/WriteBecauseYouCannotBreathe
Summary: It's cliche; a coffee shop,  a crush, a thin line between love and hate.
Relationships: Aang/Azula (Avatar)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 118





	Cold Brew Heart

Usually, it’s Ty Lee who comes into the coffee shop. Sweet and bubbly Ty Lee who cheerfully starts up conversations, comments on everyone's auras, and gushes over the new specials. 

When Ty Lee bounces in, Aang is delegated to the back because, as his coworkers and friends put it, Aang is a goody goody barista who will let people prattle for hours instead of telling them to shut up and place their order. 

Aang maintains that he is only being nice. 

He’s still delegated to the back though because, as Ty Lee puts it, Aang is nice but Sokka is cute.

Sometimes it’s Mai who arrives instead. Mai, who always greets with a deadpan “Tell anyone at The Jasmine Dragon that I was here and I will stab you.” Mai, who is so goth that Ty Lee says even her aura is black, unflinchingly orders the Unicorn Frappuccino with varying shots of espresso. Sometimes she switches it up with a different sugary drink, but the Unicorn is her go-to. One time, Aang put black food coloring in her drink and Mai gave him the high praise of “You’re okay.”

He’s still delegated to the back though because one time Sokka tried to mix the food coloring and he ended up, somehow, making it such a bright shade of pink that Mai took one look at it and demanded a bag, “Either for the drink or for my head,” and because Aang is more, in Mai’s words, “Ugh,” in the morning than Katara.

Then, one day, Azula arrives. 

The very embodiment of fear saunters in on the day of a solar eclipse, makes Sokka cry, Katara steam, and Aang? She paralyzes him as soon as she walks in the door. He can only move again when she’s out of sight, and he's disoriented the rest of the day like he just woke up from a coma. 

But he was still the one who handled her best, or so his friends claim. They assigned him to “Dragon Taming” and Aang was too kind to say no. 

It helps that he doesn’t hate Azula’s rare visits as much as his friends think he does.

One time they arrive together: Ty Lee, Mai, and Azula. It’s early in the morning, the shop is barely set up, and they’re all dead tired from exam week. Sokka engages in flirtatious banter with Ty Lee, Katara hands Mai her drink without judgment, and Aang faces Azula.

Except, he’s tired alright? Dead tired. So tired that if he went to bed right now and slept for a hundred years the first thing he’d do upon waking up would be to turn over and take a nap. He barely remembers what was said, only that their encounter left him feeling more exhausted than he thought was physically possible, slightly burnt from a hot coffee spill, and, oh yeah, staring at his phone in the middle of the night with the startling revelation that he had, in fact, signed her cup with his number instead of her name.

_Monkeyfeathers._

The words: **Why did you write your number on my coffee cup?** glare back at him like an accusation. 

He could text back that it was an accident, except that would definitely not go over well. Aang’s not entirely sure you can accidentally write your number. Maybe if one routinely wrote their number on coffee cups, but Aang certainly doesn’t. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t find her attractive. He does. But, there are very few people Aang would say are unattractive. True beauty, after all, is on the inside. Aang always thought he’d give his number to a nice girl, someone sweet and kind. Certainly not to Azula. 

Maybe it’s a prank. Yeah, a prank. Aang is trying to think of a polite way to ask for proof when Azula, as if reading his mind, sends him a photo. 

Aang makes an audible gulp. That is definitely his number. In definitely his handwriting. With a definite heart at the end.

_Double monkeyfeathers._

He shakily types back an honest, I don’t know, drapes an arm over his eyes, and clicks send.

His phone chimes far too soon. Aang pauses to look at his alarm clock and memorize his time of death before reading the new message. 

**Idiot.**

He smiles, despite himself, and saves the number.

* * *

**1 pumpkin spice latte, 1 black unicorn no shots, and 1 black coffee. 15 minutes.**

Aang frowns at his phone. The message shouldn’t surprise him, and he supposes it’s slightly better than ignoring him entirely, but…it stings. He starts making the order anyways — Mai and Ty Lee are cordial to him — but Azula? Nah. Nada. Zilch. Zero. No cordiality whatsoever. Azula wasn’t impolite, per say, and she never insulted him directly but she certainly wasn’t friendly, and she had such a clever way of pushing his buttons. 

Aang contemplates the order. Maybe it was time he pushed back.

He’s pretty sure no one who orders black coffee actually likes it and, anyways, she could use a little sweetness. He also knows that her brother works at The Jasmine Dragon, practically everyone has head of their spats, so Aang rummages around for tea. Partially because he doesn’t think Azula allows herself to order tea, and partially because being ignored stung a lot. More than it logically should. 

It’s a slow day and Aang has plenty of time so he plays around a bit with the flavors and cheekily tops it off with a foamed milk heart right as the door chimes open. 

He slaps a lid on the cup, turns, and slightly deflates. “Azula didn’t come to pick up her order?” asks Aang while handing over the drinks.

“She usually doesn’t,” deadpans Mai.

Aang checks his phone that day more times than he cares to admit. 

* * *

The next time Aang sees Azula she’s smiling and he knows he’s in danger. 

Sure enough, the drink order she tells him is convoluted and longer than his forearm. She ends it with a, “Be sure to get it right the first time.” 

He gives a smile more confident than he feels and says, “I always do.”

Aang does have a pretty good memory, and the parts he’s unsure of he just goes with whatever’s more complicated. It occurs to him to ask his friends for help, and they even offer to help a couple times, but Aang decides against it. The drink order seems personal, somehow. A private challenge. He finishes the drink and hands it over with a satisfied smile only for it to be wiped off his face when Azula casually knocks the drink off the counter, hands him a hundred, and quips, “Keep the change.”

He mops the spill up with a figurative storm cloud over his head. 

Katara nudges him. “Sokka and I are planning on treating ourselves with kite flying later. Do you want to join us?”

Aang smiles. He knows they don’t love kite flying as much as he does and that the offer is a subtle way to cheer him up. “Sure, Katara. We can get ice cream too, my treat.”

He unravels the hundred dollar bill in his pocket only to pause. There, in the corner, is a small smudge that, upon closer look, could be construed as a small heart. It absolutely should not make his chest flutter. 

* * *

“Sis, just because two guys are hot doesn’t mean they’re into each other.”

Katara leans against the sink and smirks. “So you think Zuko is hot?”

“I don’t think that! I’m just repeating what you said,” protests Sokka. He folds his hands underneath his chin and flutters his eyelashes. “Ooooooh, Mr. Brooding I think you’re soooooo hot. Tell me how you got your sexy scar?” he says in a high pitched voice. 

Katara throws a wet towel at him. “I only asked about the scar to make conversation! And I so didn’t sound like that.”

“You know,” chimes in Aang, with a mischievous idea brewing in his head and a heavy weight in his pocket, “Zuko has a pin-up of me in his room.”

Aang is pretty sure Zuko doesn’t, but he’s even more sure that Azula will help him with this prank. It would give him an excuse to text her at any rate. 

* * *

“That was disturbing. I knew Zuko had issues but I didn’t think he was a serial killer,” says Sokka. 

“Right? I don’t trust him near Aang,” adds Katara, “Zuko is clearly obsessed with him.”

Okay, so it turns out that neither he nor Azula knows what a pin-up poster looks like. Aang would find the commonality endearing except it might have accidentally made Zuko look like he has a custom wanted poster of Aang in his bedroom.

“I don’t know guys, maybe the poster is actually a…” Aang searches for a word, something better than a pin-up or a wanted poster, “...abstract hipster candid surrealist photograph?”

Katara and Sokka turn to each other and shrug. “Makes sense.” 

* * *

Aang snickers to himself as he replays the video Azula sent him. On the tiny black screen he watches a tiny Zuko rip away Aang’s poster, only to reveal a shirtless Twilight poster underneath, and tiny Zuko _absolutely loses it._

Aang tries to focus on Zuko’s rant about dishonor but his eyes fall down for the— he lost count — however many-ieth time to a single heart emoji that has no right making his heart squeeze like that. 

“Whatcha giggling about, Twinkletoes?” calls Toph. 

“Oh it’s, uh, a video.” He hits the pause button. “Do you want me to describe it to you?”

“Nah, I’ll just ask Sweetness. What’s it called?” 

“It’s not online.” Aang fumbles his phone back into his pocket. “It’s, um, a video of Zuko ranting. You wouldn’t like it.” He glances outside. “Wow, it’s getting late. Mind if I close up?”

“Go ahead, this machine’s pretty much fixed, anyways,” Toph picks her tools from the floor and grabs her cane. “Have fun giggling in the dark.”

“I will!” calls out Aang as she leaves. He checks the time. If his hunch is right then Azula will be here exactly when it’s time to close— 

The door chimes open. 

Azula coolly approaches him and taps a manicured nail on the counter. “What did you call me for?”  
  
Aang brings out a small box and grins. “Special order.”

Azula looks at the box with obvious skepticism.

“It’s already paid for,” chirps Aang.

“I see.” Azula makes no move to take the box. 

“It’s a cupcake,” he clarifies and opens the box. “See?”

Azula reaches towards the side, grabs a plastic knife, and holds it out to him slowly. All without breaking eye contact. “Taste it,” she demands with a narrowing of her eyes. 

Aang carefully cuts off a piece of the cupcake, making sure not to smear the frosting heart. He then, gleefully, pops the piece into his mouth. “It’s good,” he moans. 

Suspicion clouds her features. Aang lifts the cupcake to her mouth. She snatches it away. “I’m quite capable of feeding myself,” protests Azula, and then she takes a bite out of the cupcake as if to prove her point. 

“I told you it was good,” Aang says as her eyes widen.

Azula swallows. “It that all you called me here for?”

Aang nervously rubs his neck and looks away. “Did you have something else in mind?”

“Murder.”

“What?!”

Azula shrugs and takes another bite of the cupcake. 

“I wasn’t going to murder you,” protests Aang.

Azula chews softly then swallows. “It was the most extreme example, I’ll admit, but I did expect some form of revenge.” 

“Well, I was going to trick you by hiding a pepper in the cupcake,” admits Aang, “but then I thought you’d like that, and then I thought about what else you’d like, and then I guess I got distracted so instead of a prank cupcake I made you a gift cupcake.” 

Azula tilts her head to the side. “Chocolate and pepper. I _do_ like it, but how did you know?”

Aang grins cheekily and leans against the counter. “I have a good instinct about these sorts of things. You liked the tea too, didn’t you?”

Azula says nothing.

“I’ll make you more if you say yes,” presses Aang. 

Azula purses her lips. Aang catches himself staring. “How is this a form of revenge?” she says at last. 

He shrugs. “I guess it isn’t.”

Azula finishes the cupcake in silence. She licks her lips. Aang hurriedly grabs a napkin and holds it out to her, but Azula grabs his wrist instead. 

Still holding onto his wrist, she steps forward until her breath is brushing against him. “This is a bad idea,” Azula warns. 

Aang nods. “Probably.” He tilts his head down. 

Azula moves closer. Aang closes his eyes, only to open them moments later when nothing happens. He feels Azula’s lips hover over his own. She lets go of his wrist. “A really bad idea,” she whispers but she doesn’t move back. 

Aang ponders his choices for a moment. “Maybe,” he says softly, and then he leans in and connects the kiss. 

🖤


End file.
